Flooded Over
by pottersweetie
Summary: The war is over and Harry and Hermione have to go into hiding. When the BoyWhoLived becomes the BoyWhoShutsHimselfInHisRoomAndRefusesToTalkToAnyone Hermione grows frustrated and is deteremined to set him straight. Mild angst.


Flooded Over  
By: pottersweetie

**Author's Note:** An sad little one shot for fun. I know I should be updating my other stories but I needed to get this written before I could do that. Hope you like it! Enjoy, Read, Review!

The rain had fallen for days and days.

It had begun a relief from the hot, sticky days of the nearing August, but turned into a nuisance and caused an impending flood. The sewers and waterways were bubbling over with rain, causing roads to resemble rivers. Your best bet was to stay indoors and wait for the water to cease. Which was what Hermione was attempting to do.

The Minister of Magic had instructed for Harry and herself to go into hiding somewhere in England until the heat of the war died down. Although Voldemort had been defeated, his followers were still keen on defeating the famous Harry Potter and any of his 'annoying allies'.

Hermione sat in the cold, dank kitchen of the flat she shared with Harry. White, diluted sunlight was spilling through the huge pained windows above the sink. Even though the light was filling the room it was still chilly and uncomfortable. Hermione had tried to make a small fire in the dusty fireplace in the living room but she failed miserably. So she sat on a rickety chair at the splintered kitchen table, staring anxiously at Harry's bedroom door. The door was made of old weathered wood and it sat at the top of a narrow stairway that linked directly to the kitchen.

The sound of water dripping into pots and bowls from the leaks in the ceiling was causing Hermione to grow nervous. She shivered, pulling her jumper tightly around her. The flat itself was worn and aged. The Minister had told them about it and said it was the only place he could think of where it would be safe for them to hide away from the remaining Death Eaters. So they had accepted it, tolerating it ever since.

The floorboards in Harry's bedroom creaked. Hermione looked toward the door but he didn't appear. She moved to the stove and began to make a pot of tea, wondering if Harry would ever come out to eat or drink anything. He had kept himself reclusive ever since the end of the war, staying in his room for days at a time, coming out at night for a cup of tea or a piece of bread. Hermione was becoming desperately worried but didn't dare bother him.

And now it was his birthday. A whole eighteen years old and acting as if he was still a toddler.

She took out a tray from the cabinet and placed two porcelain mugs on it, filling them with the scalding tea. She took out a tin of biscuits and put them on the tray as well. She then gently padded over to the stairwell, walking up carefully and balancing the tray in one arm while knocking on the wood with the other.

There was no response so she opened the door and walked in, closing it behind her.

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her. He had his face buried in his hands and he sat completely still.

"Harry," Hermione began tentatively. "I brought you some tea and biscuits."

He didn't move.

She moved across the room and placed the tray on a shabby, wooden desk.

Harry still didn't respond.

"Happy birthday," she offered.

He finally looked at her, sending her the most irritated glare he could muster. He laughed icily and looked at the opposite wall.

Hermione sighed, finding him completely immature and ignorant. She had had enough of his brooding and wallowing, it was time he started behaving like a normal human being.

"Harry, can't you just come downstairs? Watch some telly?"

He looked at her again, "The blasted television is horrible and broken."

"How would you know?" she asked coldly. "You never come down to watch it," she walked to the far wall and stood against it.

He laughed dryly, "I hear you hitting it with the newspaper."

She was growing frustrated. "Harry, you can't stay locked up here forever-"

"Oh yeah?" he retorted bitterly.

"Harry, you're being stupid," she said helplessly.

He stared her down, "Stupid am I?" he got up and walked over to her. "A bloody moron is it?" their noses were inches apart, Hermione noticed that his breath smelled of Firewhiskey.

"Harry I didn't-"

"Of course you didn't, when do you ever?" he asked menacingly, walking over to the desk, standing before the cups of simmering tea.

"Harry-"

"What do you want Hermione?" he asked, looking at her with itching annoyance.

She sighed, "I want you to talk to me! You've been so closed off."

He stared out the rain-streaked window, looking so worn with the healing cuts on his arms and neck, Hermione could feel the mental fatigue reverberate from within him.

"Harry, what's wrong? Why can't you talk to me?" she asked, not moving.

He snapped immediately, "There's nothing to talk about!" he shook his head, looking away. "Merlin, Hermione."

Hermione felt like crying, she wondered if Harry did as well... She began to wonder if he had cried at all since the war ended.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and began to speak softly, "The war's over, Harry, you saved the magical world... Why are you so unhappy?" it ended in a whisper.

He almost laughed, muttering something under his breath.

"Excuse me?" she ventured.

He lashed out again, "The war's not over Hermione, it's still not over!"

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, growing extremely worried. "What do you mean the war's not over?"

She thought about walking over to him but then realized she would regret it.

He didn't respond.

"Harry you haven't cried since the batt-"

"How would you know?" he questioned, snapping his head in her direction.

She paused, "Have you cried?"

"What the hell would crying do!" he growled. "Crying wouldn't solve anything, it wouldn't bring all of those people back!"

"Oh Harry," she whispered.

He looked restless and upset.

"Is that what's got you so depressed? The number of people who died trying to defeat Voldemort-"

"Half the people we know our dead!" he roared. "Bill and Fleur were going to have a little girl! They made up a nursery and they picked out names, but they can't have a little girl anymore! The cradle's empty Hermione, do you want to know why!"

She couldn't say anything.

"Because they're dead!" he screamed. "They're both dead!"

She stood there, her eyes swimming with fresh tears. It was true they had lost nearly all of their friends because of that one war. But they all fought for the same thing, that one good thing that would save the magical world forever.

Harry was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling harshly.

"Luna's dead. Ginny, Dean, Neville, Ron! They're all gone!" he looked angrier. "Ron is dead, Hermione! How could you possibly go about your day as if nothing was wrong! As if it would all be okay!" he shook his head. "How could you be so selfish!"

Her mouth fell open in outrage, "Selfish! I'm selfish because I try to restore hope in my own life as well as yours! I miss Ron just as much as you do and don't you ever think otherwise!" her brow was set and she too was breathing heavily. "_You're_ selfish! All you do is sit up here and mope! Ron wouldn't want that, Dumbledore wouldn't want that, you're just being a coward-"

She was cut off as a tea cup came rattling towards her, she shrieked and ducked quickly. The cup shattered against the wall and slid to the floor, spilling the hot liquid against the wood. She leaned against the wall, covering her head with both arms, afraid of what he would do next.

Nothing.

She didn't dare move, she wouldn't even imagine looking at him just then. It was as if making eye contact with him would set it off again, cause him to throw or break something else. But this was Harry, her Harry. She couldn't let him feel overpowering. He wasn't in control and she wasn't about to let him throw away everything he worked for because his friends had died, fighting for what they wanted and believed in. She heard the floor board creak and she flinched for a second, looking up cautiously.

He was staring at her, his jaw set and clenched, breath drawing in and out of his nose raggedly. His eyes were burning with something she had never seen before. Desire? Unadulterated anger? Hatred? Violence? She didn't know, but he had never looked at her like that before.

He lunged across the room and grabbed her arms, pinning her to the wall, "I'm not a coward," he spat. "How dare you!"

She was shaking, speechless.

"Ron was my best friend and now he's gone, the closest thing I ever had to parents are gone! And you have the nerve to call me a coward!" he shook her. "My best friend is gone!" he shouted, releasing her, causing her to stumble against the wall.

Harry stomped across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulder rising and falling harshly. Hermione stood for a second, almost shocked. Then she came to her senses, marched over to him and said clearly, "In case you didn't know, you still have me."

And she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

She walked through the kitchen and into the living room where she stood in front of the fire place where a few pathetic embers were still trying to burn. Her eyes narrowed on them, it sounded strange but she felt as if she could relate to the embers. Those poor pieces of a fire that once burned so fiercely and effortlessly. Those embers that now lay in cold ashes, trying so hard to burn brightly, to not go out and turn cold forever. She sighed, leaning against the mantle, her forehead resting on her hand. She felt like crying, like breaking down and not having to try anymore, to just curl up and not worry about the other sad embers in her life that were burning out faster than she was.

Suddenly the sound of an opening door broke her train of thought. The creak of the wood and she looked up, moving from the fireplace. He was standing there, watching her in the doorway, looking sheepish and embarrassed.

"Come to throw more dishes at me, have you?" she snapped curtly.

The words cut across him like a knife and he cringed.

"Hermione I didn't mean--"

"Do you know what if feels like to have to baby-sit and watch the one person who you thought could do anything!" she sniffled. "Do you know what it's like to watch the strongest person you know fall apart!" she demanded.

He didn't say anything because he knew it was her turn to lash out.

The tears stung behind her eyes and she didn't bother to brush them away, the sobs didn't escape but they choked her voice as she spoke.

"You don't know, because you're the one acting as if no one else was affected by the war! Ron was my best friend too, he was like my brother and I loved him as much as you did!" she swallowed. "The Weasley family _was_ my second family, and I know they meant as much to you so stop acting like it's only you who's hurting, because that's not true!"

He knew she wasn't finished so he stayed silent, watching the silent tears slip down her face.

"I'm trying to be hopeful and get you to change your attitude so everything can seem somewhat normal again!" she swallowed.

Harry began to speak, "Hermione-"

"And do you have any idea how it feels when you try so desperately to help someone, and they don't care! They don't even give a damn, they don't see you as a friend anymore, they're too busy missing the ones that are gone!" she paused. "I can see you're upset Harry but you still have me."

The silence that fell over them was painful and Hermione broke it.

She whimpered, "You always had me. . . . And you always will," she offered.

Harry swiftly walked across the room and engulfed her in a hug, she sobbed into the crook of his neck and breathed deeply, taking in the smell of his shirt. She just wanted the emotional fatigue to wash away from her through the sobs so she cried and cried, wishing it would all be better. But she knew it wouldn't. She knew Ron was gone forever, and Ginny, Sirius, Dumbledore, Neville, all of the Weasley family. They were all gone, even her own parents were taken and terminated by the Death Eaters. All she had was Harry. All they had in the world was each other.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I've been unfair."

She shook her head, unable to speak.

And for a few minutes it was silent. The obvious traffic from the town inhabitants was distant and barely a hum. Hermione pressed herself against Harry's chest and listened carefully to his heartbeat. All she needed to hear was that and she knew that there was hope and that she wasn't alone. It was like this for a few minutes, they were basking in the familiarity of one another, trying hard to fix the wounds that they couldn't even pin point.

Then she looked at him, their eyes locked and she stared at him.

"I really do love you," he said gently, because all he had was her.

She smiled, "I love you too Harry."

They knew it would be all right.

And at that moment the rain stopped.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought! Please Review!


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